


An Un-Ending River of Shit

by BloodyRedQueen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Homeless Peter Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Just another excuse for whump, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter and Tony don't know each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-10-27 12:08:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17766512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyRedQueen/pseuds/BloodyRedQueen
Summary: May and Ben have been dead for a while, and Peter experiences enough in the system to tell him he doesn't belong there. So of course once he puts himself together it all comes crashing down."Peter sat patiently, studying the ring finger on his left hand that had grown wrong a few months ago and was now healed at a wrong angle. He usually just avoided using the finger, but in the deafening silence of the car he wiggled it up and down, entertaining himself with the pain.Stark's eyes flicked up from his phone, staring at his finger. They softened, again."





	1. Chapter 1

If there's anything he relied on, it was the consistent shittiness of human beings. Dumpsters full of expired food that was good to eat, uncaring pedestrians sparing not so much as a glance to a homeless 15 year old. People who, just as down on their luck as Peter was his, were willing to shake down just about anyone and everyone with shoes on.

And the thing is, Peter knew he could've fought the guy off, easily. He'd just been slinking around the streets when the junkie had pushed him into the alley, and demanded his shoes while jerking some kind of small knife around in the air. One move and Peter could've had the guy pinned under his shoes. But the junkie was way skinnier than Peter (somehow) and it probably sucked not having shoes at this time of year. And even if Peter could rely on the unending stream of shit the universe liked to heap on him, he could also rely on his own personal stubborness to help. 

That's ok though, he'll get some new shoes today. He was ok. A little cold, but ok. Peter had $200 hidden in his waistband, and even though the junkie had gotten his shoes he hadn't gotten his savings. 

He slung his threadbare backpack over his shoulders and began the cold walk to the thrift store, his bare feet hitting the unforgiving sleet. It was a cold New York day, and within minutes his feet burned from the cold, turning white and hard. He dipped into another alley to tie some of his other clothes around his feet. Relishing the barrier between his feet and the ice, he set off again. 

By sundown he had some shoes, and these ones were even a bit warmer than his old ones. That fact, combined with a great day of patrol in New York, left Peter in a better mood than he'd expected. Plus, some lady bought him like 5 hot dogs and he was full for the first time in weeks. So all said and done, the day was a success. The sunset hitting the skyscrapers painted the city orange and pink, and his eyes moistened like they always did at the sight. 

A few months ago Avenger's tower had been shut down, all the 'superheros' moving to upstate, like all rich people did sometime or another. The tower still sat in the middle of the city, unsold. Peter had the sneaking suspicion Tony Stark just couldn't bring himself to tear it down or give it someone else. But the thing about it that no one really knew was it was still heated. And the place was enormous. So Peter didn't feel bad about sneaking in at night, lord knows the heating bill was probably a penny on the street to Tony Stark. And Peter had fixed up a room pretty alright, made his very own home deep in the destruction. The warm, worn blankets on the mattress on the ground. Clothes, dirty or not, folded neatly in stacks. Newspapers with his pictures of spider-man on the front plastered over the walls, and the stash of medical supplies he kept stocked. 

He only had to avoid the cameras posted at the entrances. Most people couldn't make it quite past those, but then again most people just didn't have web-shooters. 

It had been two years since Ben and May had passed. Two years since he'd seen Ned or MJ. 18 months since he left the system. For the first month after he'd run away, he could remember the paranoia, constantly looking over his shoulder and sleeping in two hour segments. But then he realized, no one was looking. 

And life got easier once he knew he didn't have anyone. 

His mind quieted down, focused on the small joys of life. He had food, a room, a purpose in life. A hell of a lot more than most people had. 

All said in done, it had been 18 months since he talked to anyone without the suit on. Part of him wasn't sure if he even could anymore. Not since... not since what happened. 

But he didn't like to think on that. 

Focus Peter. 

Focus on the small things. 

His life was going good. 

But Parker luck was parker luck, and if there was anything he could rely on it was - well, the universe just hated him. 

So when he woke up, Iron Man was standing over him in bed. 

"-id? Helloo?" 

He scrambled back and up the ceiling, old memories resurfacing and taking control. He couldn't stop his heart from pounding at the sight of a suit looking down at him while he laid in bed. Instantly awake, he scrambled as fast as he could across the ceiling and towards the door, only sparing to shoot a web at his backpack to try and grab it. 

He missed. Not turning back, he dropped to the ground and sprinted down the emergency exit. That's ok. He could get a new backpack. He'd figure it out. 

"Kid? Come on, don't run, I'm not a runner" Tony Stark's voice echoed down the hallway

Oh god oh god oh god. He had to get out. He couldn't get trapped, couldn't go back into the system. Was his heart about to beat out of his chest like he felt it was? It was hard to run with his body shaking so hard but when he got to the bottom he ran to the exit on muscle memory. 

And he ran straight into another Iron Man suit. 

"Could you just stop for a minute? Please? I have more suits but neither one of us wants me to go through the trouble of sending them out. " 

Chest heaving, his eyes frantically scanned the room for a way out. He couldn't think, it was too much. This had never happened before. He had never felt so...

Trapped. 

"Kid. Yoo hoo. Earth to Spider-Man" 

Peter's eyes flicked to the suit that was talking. Was Tony Stark really in there? Maybe he could find a way to bend the metal so the suit couldn't chase him. But what if he was in there? 

The suit must've taken his panicked gaze as a sign he was listening. It disengaged, opened up to reveal the genuine Tony Stark. 

"Hey, listen up, you need to breathe short stuff." 

Tony Stark took a step forward, Peter took two back. His legs felt like lead. Was he sinking, or did it just feel like it? 

Of course, he backed straight into an iron suit and in his renewed scramble to get away tripped and fell on his ass. Something in Stark's eyes softened at that. 

"You're ok. I'm just here to talk, you're ok." 

The iron grip on his lungs burned his chest, and he freed up a hand to clutch at the shirt in front of his heart. 

"Burns, huh? That's alright, that's normal, kid." 

Stark kept taking gentle steps forward, and Peter just couldn't seem to get away. 

"Don't - " He tried to say 

"Please- please- I'm - sorry" 

"Christ above, how old are you?" 

Peter shut his eyes tight, clenched his fists, and forced his lungs to fill and exhale. 

Then again, and again. 

God, he'd really thought he was safe here. He really thought he'd created something for himself, a life for himself. And now even that was being ripped from him. Tony Stark would send him back. Or send him to juvie. He'd been trespassing for... too long. Too long to pretend he hadn't. 

"Don't press charges. Please, don't press charges. I won't do it again, I'm sorry" he eked out of his aching lungs. 

"I have no idea how you want me to react to that." Stark was standing just a few feet away now, studying something on his hands. 

"Just let me leave, I'm sorry" 

"Who said I was keeping you here?" Stark asked

Nervously looking at the other iron suit in the room, Peter shakily got to his feet. Tony Stark had turned his back, picking sadly at the dry wall where the seasons had destroyed what he worked so hard to create. 

Peter gingerly walked towards the door. 

"But I do have a proposition if you want to hear it." 

He stopped, curious. 

"What does that mean?" 

"That means it's come to my attention that a certain red and blue vigilante I've been looking for for months buys his shoes at a dollar store."

Peter gulped. This couldn't go well. Walking around the room, Tony dragged his hand along the wall before checking it for dust. 

"There are some... friends. I have that seem to have a moral objection to dollar store shoes and all of," he gestured up and down at Peter's body, "all of this". 

Peter was suddenly all too aware of the dried blood on his clothes, various bruises and scratches he hadn't paid any mind when he'd received on patrol. 

"What's the proposition" He stuttered out, words partially stuck in his throat. 

"Why don't you come over for dinner? That metabolism has to be killer"

Peter's stomach really was aching, after all. The hot dogs earlier in the day had been an absolute blessing, but he was never sated for long. And it was another month till his next check from Jameson. And if he turned down food it would absolute bite him in the ass. 

"Hey, I get it, stranger danger and all that. You're a smart kid." Stark started to walk back towards his suit. 

"No- wait- I- I'll come!" 

Tony stopped, his back still turned. If Peter could see his face he knew it'd be smirking. 

"Great. There's a car outside for us." 

-_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He couldn't remember the last time he'd ridden in a car. It smelled new inside, and he wanted to shrink in his seat. Of course Tony Stark had sent a limo to pick up a homeless teenager. 

"Relax kid, it's my third favorite it can survive some smudges" 

Peter couldn't hold back the gulp. Stark was on his phone, typing and tapping away and Peter felt awkward as the limo swayed in and out of traffic, carrying them upstate. Would they give him a ride back? He didn't have his web shooters, it would take him at least a day or two to walk back. 

The car ride stretched on. He wanted to talk, ask what was happening, how Stark had found him, what he was supposed to do now. 

But he sat patiently, studying the ring finger on his left hand that had grown wrong a few months ago and was now healed at a wrong angle. He usually just avoided using the finger, but in the deafening silence of the car he wiggled it up and down, entertaining himself with the pain. 

Starks eyes flicked up from his phone, staring at his finger. They softened, again. Self conscious, Peter sighed and clasped his hands together and hid the mangled appendage. He shivered minutely. 

"You cold, kid?" 

Peter didn't own a jacket, and usually wore a few extra shirts when he went outside to compensate. He had a hard time meeting Starks eyes, and pursed his lips while he tried to calm the shivers. 

"Don't get me wrong, I love to listen to myself talk. My voice is beautiful. But our conversations have started to feel a little... one sided" 

"Sorry, sir" Peter mumbled, looking at the space between Stark's eyes. 

"So, what are you feeling like for dinner? Pizza? Steak? Tacos?" 

Peter's stomach growled. 

"Right. So everything."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't finished this chapter yet but everytime I save it I lose it! So here's nothing! 
> 
> Let me know if you want more, seems like everytime I get some free time I wind up starting a new fic

The kid ate like it was the only meal he'd ever have again. Judging by how he took care of himself, it definitely could've been too. Spider-Man was nothing like what Tony thought. He'd pictured someone with a house, maybe a job. Someone who was smart with their money, and that would've been why they'd bought shoes at a thrift store. At the very least he'd thought SpiderMan would have a high school degree. And he was definitely not expecting some kid, clearly malnourished, sleep deprived, mutilated. Traumatized. 

He was watching the kid eat through a one way mirror, trying to ignore Natasha and Clint standing behind him whispering to each other. No doubt analyzing strengths, weaknesses. He could hear something about favoring and ribs, and he had no doubt the kid had some long forgotten injury that had never healed right. It didn't look like anything had healed right in years. 

"Jesus. That's him?" 

Steve caught him by surprise. Tony turned around, noting the concern in his eyes. He was dressed down, in his casual clothes. The plan had been to bring Spider-Man in in a few months, get him some training. But when they clocked him wearing the same shoes that were purchased hours earlier at a Queens thrift shop, Tony had jumped on the opportunity. 

"Sure is. FRIDAY clocked some Foster care records on him. Looks like he's been homeless for a red hot minute" 

If Tony could melt the glass between himself and the fucked up fifteen year old, he would. Hell, he'd melt the fifteen year old too if it meant he could get the team to stop looking like a bunch of kicked puppies. 

"He fought Doctor Octopus? On his own?" Bruce had joined the party too, now, and the room was starting to get a little crowded. Or maybe it was just all the emotions in the room that made Tony feel claustrophobic. 

"He sure did. You remember that hit he took to his head?" Tony had clocked the scar just above the kids eyebrow when they first met. For the most part it had been hidden by his hair, but every once in a while they could see the angry red scar, clearly still healing. He felt uncomfortable when he looked at the kid. Growing up rich, Tony had never felt desperation in the same way Peter Parker did. For the first time in a long time, he was ashamed of having so much wealth while there were those that bought their shoes for $5 and couldn't breathe properly because of untreated injuries. 

Tony was completely out of his depth. He hadn't wanted to get involved with any of this at all. He didn't even like kids. And even when he was halfway on board he'd thought Spider Man would've just been a little down on his luck, not... this. 

"What happened to him?" Bruce asked. 

"None of your business" The kid said from behind the glass, genuinely taking them all by surprise. Tony had designed that soundproof room himself. The Avengers, Earth's Defenders, shared a look and filed into the small interrogation room. 

He was hunched over the table, shoulders blocking any of them from coming near him. Since Tony had found him in the Tower he had put himself together more. Gone was the terrified kid and here was the defensive survivor. 

"Spider-Man" Steve said, but didn't get any acknowledgement. His eyes kept scanning each of them

"Peter" Tony said, and the kid flinched before looking up. And his walls were suddenly a thousand miles high. 

"What do you want?" Peter asked, rubbing his hands on his pants to remove some of the grease. 

"Well, son, we're here to help" Steve was giving him that earnest look he gave Tony when he had his panic attacks. Tony tensed up, recalling what it was like to be on the opposite end of so much emotion. The kid gulped, looked at each of the Avengers. 

"What do you want?" 

Tony could hear Bruce's heart breaking. The sap. Bruce took a step forward, approaching Peter at the table. 

The kid shoved his chair back, flipping over the chair back and climbing up to the corner of the ceiling. His eyes looked feral. 

"Peter, you're safe here." Steve said, calm as always. 

"What do you want with me?" 

True to form, Bruce again tried to take a step forward to comfort the kid. Steve held his arm out, stopping Bruce from moving, but Peter had already cringed further into the wall. Looking right behind him, Tony could see smudges where some sluggishly leaking blood was being smeared against the wall. Was the kid bleeding when he grabbed him from the tower? 

Come to think of it, there was something in the news about a few muggers SpiderMan had stopped last night. Guilt was overshadowed by annoyance at Bruce. 

"Alright. Everyone out but Steve."

Peter looked down gratefully at Tony, as the rest of the Avengers sighed and walked out.

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I haven't finished any of my other fics, I am sorry! But I read A Third Option by UncertaintyPrinciple and got an idea for a fic. If you haven't read it, for the love of god you need to. I've been a fan of signofthree for a long time, and this is probably one of the best whump pieces around. 
> 
> If there is anyone that was into my writing back when I was posting a lot, thank you for sticking around. My life has gotten better in ways I can't articulate, and I love you! 
> 
> If this fic gains any traction I'll write a second chapter, but for the time being I have no plans.


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